Link to article: (Not The) Foundation Fight Club!.
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[[include info:start]] [[=]] **[http://www.scp-wiki.net/ellie3-gimmick-free More by this author]** [[/=]] [[include info:end]] [[=]] > Do //you// want to hone your combat skills? > > Do //you// want to have fun and socialize with your peers? > > Do //you// want to punch your rival in the face? > > > Well, come on down to the Site-██ cafeteria to sign up for the first ever **Foundation Fight Club!** > > ++++++ (Note: No prizes will be distributed to the winners, unless you count bragging rights.) [[/=]] [http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-ide Alexander and Sadie] read the small flyer, cringing. "Jesus Christ," Sadie spoke, a hint of disgust in her voice. "What even-- How? Why?" "I know," Alexander sighed, tearing the flyer off of the wall, studying it closely. "Seriously, a //fight club?//" Sadie snatched it out of his hands, muttering, "They should put us in charge of these new 'activities,' we could probably make them appealing!" "You know what..." Alexander thought for a moment. "That isn't a bad idea, actually..." "How could you say that?!" She screamed, having never once heard him actually //compliment// the Foundation. "The Foundation is the lamest--" "Yes, yes, I know. //But,// I think that we could do better," Alexander grinned, "Let's just host our own //fight club,// then it isn't an official event and therefore five times cooler." Sadie's mouth opened to protest, but she paused. "I-- We could make that work... We could have betting! And pizza!" "Yeah!" Alexander exclaimed, "A tournament with //blackjack// and //hookers!//" Her smile quickly dropped from her face. "No, no, stop it." ------ [[=]] > Do //you// want to be a cool dude?! > > Do //you// want to bet and earn money?! > > Do //you// want to beat the shit out of your peers for a Grand Prize?! > > Well, meet your local agents Sadie and Alexander down at the Rec Room to sign up for the first ever **Local Combat Tournament!** > > ++++++ (Note: Hosted by the people, not the lame Foundation higher-ups!) [[/=]] ------ Being a janitor in the poor, penniless Foundation, Jonas was desperate for any opportunity to make a few dollars. So when he saw a flyer detailing a new 'Local Combat Tournament,' he abandoned his current job of sweeping the filthy hallways to run over to the Rec Room, where Alexander and Sadie sat at a table, organizing a small pile of sign-up papers and waivers. Between deep, exhausted breaths, he asked them, "How... Do... I make... Bets..." Sadie exchanged a nervous glance with Alexander, who began to explain, "Well, bets are made during the actual tournament, which is tomorrow. We still need to organize the whole thing, so you're going to have to wai-" Suddenly, Jonas grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking him whilst crying, "I **need** money! Please!" Alexander uncomfortably pushed his hands away, gulping. "Dude, just wait! Seriously man, what's wrong with you?" Jonas dropped to his knees, sniffling before bursting into tears, sobbing, "**Everythingggg!!!**" It was at this point that Sadie, thoroughly weirded out by this strange encounter, grabbed Jonas by his shoulder, sneaking them past the hysterical janitor. ------ "Are you guys ready to see some fighting!?" Alexander shouted into the microphone, slowly walking around their makeshift wrestling-ring. On both sides of him, the audience sitting on the bleachers shouted back, "**Yeah!!!**" "Then let's get started, huh!? First, let's go over the rules!" "**Boo!**" "Hey, it's necessary, alright!?" He retorted, pulling a paper from his pocket. "Eight combatants! Seven rounds of combat! And only three rules! One: Fists only, no weapons! Two: No killing each other! And finally, three: Lose consciousness, you lose. Fall out of the arena, you lose. That being said, let's bring out our first two fighters!" With a dramatic twirl, he pointed towards Sadie, who poked her head into the curtained-off area behind her. Two men exited through, stepping up into the ring. "In one corner we have one of our Site-432 janitors, Grayson Goblin, facing off against Agent George Patterson! What a ferocious matchup! Without further ado, let us begin. Fight!" The two combatants began circling the arena, carefully watching each other. They circled. And circled. And circled some more. Grayson could feel his eyes get heavy. They circled. And circled. And circled //even more.// Grayson blinked his exhaustion away. Seeing this, George lurched forward, a grin on his face as he grabbed the janitor's legs. Before Grayson could register what was going on, his feet were pulled out from under him and he was carefully pushed under the ropes of the ring, falling onto the floor. Alexander sighed, turning on his microphone. "George wins, I guess!" A majority of the audience cheered, except for Jonas, whose hands balled into fists. //What the hell, Grayson? I lost a hundred dollars on you!// He relaxed, sighing, //There's still six more rounds. I can make money off of this...// ------ "Alright, let's begin round number two! Combatants, please come on out!" Two women marched into the arena as the audience started screaming in excitement. The two women exchanged a polite handshake, after which they walked to their respective corners. "Site Director Laura versus her assistant, Rachel Dresden! Two very important people-- friends, even-- battling against each other! Now, let's watch them fight!" "Are you ready, Laura?" Rachel asked, stepping towards her. "I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're the director." With a booming belly-laugh, the Site Director replied, "Same to you, Rachel. I may not look like it, but back in my olden days I was--" Her bragging was quickly interrupted with a punch going straight into her neck, sending her flying backwards into the ropes of the ring. "I see how it is then," she coughed, "You--" Once again, Rachel interrupted her, this time with a punch into her head, knocking her out. "Never focus too much on talking during fights, //Mrs. Director//" she teased before raising her hands to the sky, celebrating her victory as the audience applauded, Jonas included. //That makes up for my loss last round! Hopefully I get lucky...// ------ "Round number three! Combatants, get out here!" Two large, tall men lumbered into the ring as the audience fell dead silent. "This is... Um... These are Agents Franklin and..." Alexander stepped back, turning the microphone off as he whispered to Sadie, who snatched it away from him, turning it back on. "This round is canceled! These people aren't part of the Foundation! Get away!" ------ "O-- Okay," Alexander rubbed at a bruise on his cheek, obtained when one of the invaders elbowed him in the face. "Now that we have that all dealt with, let's move on to round number four. Whoever wins this automatically progresses to the final round. Combatants, you know what to do!" A man and a woman ran out, their hands intertwined as they skipped up to the arena. "A duel between husband and wife! Agent Josephine versus Agent Joe! Fight!" The couple separated, instantly pouncing on each other. They rolled around on the ground, Josephine eventually managing to pin Joe's wrists down. "Ha! I'm winning!" "No way!" Joe pushed his knee up, cracking her in the ribs. She gasped in pain, loosening her grip, giving him the opportunity to roll her over, reversing their roles as she was pinned down. With a burst of pain-fueled adrenaline, Josephine lashed her hands around him, pushing her sharp nails into his back. He gasped, rolling around on the floor. "Get off get off get off!!!" Although Josephine was stubborn, she also didn't have much foresight, which she realized as Joe rolled them off of the side of the arena, sending them into the ground. Alexander paused for a moment before collapsing and curling up into a ball on the floor, prompting Sadie to grab the microphone from his shaking hands. "Nobody wins!" ------ //I haven't made anything,// Jonas thought, sitting in the Site-432 cafeteria as the spectators filed through, each of them grabbing a slice of pizza. //There's only one round left, I have to make this count...// Grabbing a napkin from the hands of a passerby, he took a pen from his pocket and began to write: > Agent George vs. Assistant Site Director Rachel //Who should I pick...// > George likes to play dirty, he doesn't attack until he can find an opening. Uses rules to win. > > Rachel also likes to play dirty, she gets her opponent talking and takes advantage of the distraction. Incredibly fast too... He smiled. //That's it! I'll bet on Rachel! She'll win, I know it!// ------ Sadie and Alexander stared at the stacks of money before them, fighting their temptation to steal it all. "A-- A lot of people bet on this round, huh?" Alexander stuttered. "Yeah..." Sadie replied, "We should, uh, start the fight, huh?" They both looked up at the audience, which was patiently waiting, staring at them. Reaching for his microphone, Alexander silently got himself pumped up. "Alright! This is the final round! Combatants!" George and Rachel ran in, stepping into the ring, shaking hands before stepping into their corners. "Alright, you already know who these people are! The only thing left to do is fight!" Rachel instantly dashed forward, using her sharp nails to slash at George, who narrowly dodged to the side. "Gettin' right into it, huh?!" "Hell yeah!" she shouted as she slashed at him again, this time leaving five short cuts across his right shoulder. Gasping in pain, he raised his hands up as if he were going to punch, but at the last second, looped his body around and kicked her in the back of the leg, dropping her to her knees. He stomped down, hearing a sickening crack as her tibia shattered, leaving her leg broken. She let out a short scream, and, pulling a gun out from her concealed-carry holster, she aimed it at his leg and shot. George howled, dropping to the ground as blood oozed from his knee. Grimacing, he pulled out his own gun. They aimed at each other's heads, and-- "Hey, what the hell!?" "They're gone!" "How am I supposed to get my money back!?" The crowd rioted, storming over to the empty announcer stand, where a single note was left. > You both broke the rules, nobody wins. Two lonely gunshots rang throughout the Site. ------ Jonas sulked through the hallways of Site-432, mourning the loss of his precious hundred-dollar bill. Opening his locker, he sighed, thinking. //What am I going to say to my wife? She's going to yell at me for gambling again... She might even divorce me...// His eyes swelled up with tears, but then he spotted a small bag pushed into the back of his locker, a note taped to it. Grabbing it, he read: [[=]] > Out of everyone who bet on the Tournament, you seemed like you needed this the most. > > From your local combat hosts, Alexander and Sadie~ [[/=]] Jonas peeked inside the bag, almost fainting when he saw the stacks of money inside. And for once in his life, he cried tears of happiness, not sorrow. @@ @@ [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]